


Echo

by word_processing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:42:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/word_processing/pseuds/word_processing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian's life was entirely Jim. And now he gone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echo

The flat reeked of stale beer but Sebastian didn’t give a damn. He knew how furious Jim would have been if he came back to a coffee table littered with empty glass bottles and cans that were hardly visible through a thick cloud of cigarette smoke. Sebastian sucked some more smoke of the cigarette currently burning between his fingers and exhaled before killing it in the ash tray. The sniper curled up on his side.

Jim used to do this. He’d spend a day curled around a pillow on the couch, not speaking or moving or bothering to function at all. It used to worry Sebastian. He would try to coax a sip of water into the smaller man or a bathroom break, something to get him to stop staring at the wall in front of him. Jim wouldn’t flinch, and in time, Sebastian learned to work around the silences. He would try to run Jim’s empire as well as he could. The outside world could never know just how broken Jim Moriarty was.

Sebastian, on the other hand, lay there in a fetal position, dreaming of Jim’s face. He smiled sometimes. Hardly anyone knew that. Yes, James Moriarty used to smile. It was rare and it was short-lived but oh God, did Sebastian Moran live for that smile. It wasn’t the cruel smile or the sly smile. No, it was a real human smile. Sometimes, he’d see it just as he was pulling away from a kiss. Or when he was cleaning his guns in the bedroom and Jim was just waking up; he’d turn his back for a moment and out of the corner of his eye, he’s see the light in Jim’s eyes.

But never again.

All that lived in Sebastian’s memory now. The sniper had an excellent memory; you couldn’t get all far in the British Army and then in Moriarty’s empire without one. Even with that, Jim was slipping; slipping away from him, drowned out by alcohol and pain and fear and heartbreak.

_Jim had thought Sebastian asleep, and maybe the criminal master mind was high on some new drug or in a post-coital fog, but Jim Moriarty had said three little words that made Sebastian’s heart stop. The blonde had been curled up around his lover, back to chest. Sebastian was about to fall asleep, breathing in the smell of Jim’s skin. Jim was staring into the distance, as he did most of the night; Sebastian has just pulled his arms a little tighter around the other man and Jim had moved his head so Sebastian could nuzzle his shoulder. Sebastian was just drifting into a dreamless sleep when-  
_

_“I love you.” Jim murmured, voice barely above a mere gasp of air. He leaned into Sebastian some more and closed his eyes.  
Sebastian just lay there shocked: he didn’t think Jim would ever return his feelings verbally. He didn’t realize he knew the words, much less the meaning. He wanted to kiss him, make love to him slowly and all night long but he stayed still, not hinting to Jim that he was aware of his words. He couldn’t help but grin against Jim’s skin though, kissing his shoulder lightly before finally drifting off._

Sebastian Moran, the second most dangerous man in England didn’t cry. It simply was not within his nature. However, Sebastian, Jim’s lover, cried. Sebastian sobbed after Jim’s death for a while, sat in their flat and didn’t eat for almost a week before he merely existed in the space around him. He began to drink, smoke two, even three packs a day. He lost count of how many cigarettes, how many beers, how many sleepless nights, how many empty days, how many times he’d stared at the door. Hoping. He watched Jim’s empire fall to pieces. Everything he’d worked for was in ruins after just six months. He couldn’t run it on his own. He couldn’t write code that would bring down a corporation in a matter of hours. Sebastian fired bullets from rooftops. He tortured people into spilling everything they knew. He killed them. He took care of the corpses. He followed every one of Jim’s orders. He couldn’t give them.

_“Jim, you can’t!” Sebastian protested, setting down the barrel of a handgun gently, making sure not to scratch it before turning all his attention to Jim.  
_

_“Yes, I can, Sebastian. And I will.” Jim said firmly, a little more like a stubborn child than he meant. “This is the Final Problem. This game is boring, I want it to end.” Jim continued, tapping at his computer for a moment and then pointing to the screen. Sherlock Holmes stroked his bow across his violin while the army doctor fixed tea in the kitchen in their shared flat.  
_

_“This is about him, isn’t it? I shoulda known. God, Jim.” Sebastian ran a hand through his hair.  
_

_“Of course, it’s about Sherlock Holmes, what else would it about?” Jim countered. Sebastian knew that voice, that voice he used when he was working when he was controlling the spider’s web. “It’s always about me and Sherlock.”  
_

_Sebastian wanted to snap his neck for a short moment, and then he glanced back down at the gun on the table. “What do you need me to do?”  
_

_“I need you to set up across the St. Bart’s; your target is the good doctor, Dr. Watson. You’re both army men; this should be fun.” Jim said with the same smile and tone of voice Sebastian had heard at the pool months before.  
_

_“Any other orders?” Sebastian asked, just staring resolutely at the gun.  
_

_“Yes,” Jim’s voice was grave. “No matter what, fire unless Sherlock jumps. No matter what happens, even to me.”  
_

_“I don’t like it. I don’t like it.” Sebastian muttered under his breath, hands clenched into fists at his sides.  
_

_“I know.” Jim replied quietly.  
_

_There was a moment of silent tension between the two.  
_

_“Fuck Jim! Why?” Sebastian shouted, “Why does it have to be you?”  
_

_Jim didn’t flinch. He just stepped closer, voice softened slightly, not answering the question. “I know. I know.”_

Sebastian pushed his hands through his unkempt hair. It was an honest mess. Jim wouldn’t have stood for it unless he’d done it himself. He poured himself another drink, sat on the living room’s window sill and watched the people on the street. Jim used to lean out the window or stand on the balcony and fold his hands into a gun, like child. He’d nod to a person on the street and pretend to fire, laughing softly to himself.

They used to go for walks sometimes too, whenever Sebastian could convince Jim to get out of his suit and out of the flat. Jim would grumble at first, about being dragged away from his work (even if he was moping around the flat complaining about being bored) and being focused into ‘normal, boring, ordinary people clothes’. They would walk side-by-side in the crowded, nighttime streets of London. They would window shop. Sometimes, they would have a drink at a pub. They would walk with their shoulders knocking together and their hips brushing against each other. When the streets were crowded and no one would notice, Sebastian would take hold of Jim’s hand, pulling them even closer together. Once Sebastian pointed out a leather jacket in a store window.

_“Isn’t that a beauty,” Sebastian said, stopping and moving closer to the window with Jim following close behind. Jim cocked his head to the side and Sebastian’s fingers brushed his hip bone as they moved closer together in the waning daylight.  
Jim gazed up at the sniper, “Do you want it?”  
_

_Sebastian’s eyes widened at him.“W-what?” He had lost his favorite leather jacket the month before and had sulked around the flat for a week.  
_

_“Do you want it? The jacket?” Jim repeated, grinning a little. Before Sebastian could reply, Jim had him by the arm and was dragging him into the shop.  
_

_The dimly lit store was slightly crowded with round clothing ranks. Sebastian had to walk sideways to follow Jim. A perky young red-head in a black dress strolled over to them from the middle of the store. “Can I help you gentlemen?”  
_

_“Yes,” Jim said and jabbed his thumb behind him, “I’d like to see the leather jacket in the front window.”  
_

_The sales woman nodded and took a set of keys from behind the counter. Jim stripped Sebastian of his denim jacket and laid it on one of the racks next to them, smoothing down his shirt sleeves. “We should try it on you first.” Jim was smiling, that warm, human, domestic type smile that made Sebastian’s heart soar and want to pull him into his arms and kiss him until he was breathless.  
_

_“Jim, you honestly don’t have to do this.” Sebastian protested weakly as the sales woman, whose name tag read Veronica, returned with the jacket and handed it to Jim. Sebastian complied and tried it on. Jim smiled the while time; Sebastian would have thought it was fake, but there was a sparkle in his eye that told him otherwise.  
_

_“There! I think it looks better than your other one, Seb.” Jim ran a hand over his shoulder and down his arm, handing a credit card back to the sale woman.  
_

_Sebastian grinned, “Can you sign this for me sir?” The sale woman asked from the counter. Jim left his side for a moment before returning as he replaced his credit card in his wallet.  
_

_“Thanks babe.” Sebastian smiled and took Jim’s hand, kissing the palm.  
_

_Jim gripped his lapel and whispered in his ear, “Wanna go break it in?”  
_

_Sebastian chuckled and nodded, taking Jim’s hand.  
_

_They never made it back to the flat, Jim kept brushing his hand against Sebastian clothed cock and finally he dragged the Irishman down a long, dark alley and took him against the wall, with Jim holding onto the new jacket for support._

Sebastian had asked Jim to marry him, about a month before it all went to hell and Jim had been taken into interrogation by that prissy government asshole with the umbrella and police detective for a lover. Sebastian had asked.Jim had said yes. It had been almost perfect. Sebastian just liked to see the ring on Jim’s fingers, the shiny gold band that stayed there no matter what.

When Jim was taken into custody, he almost lost it.

_Sebastian gnawed on his finger nails, not that he made many left. He hadn’t slept in what must have been a week, he couldn’t remember. Sebastian jumped with the land line rang, he ran to pick it up.  
_

_“Hello?”  
_

_“Sebastian?” It was Jim. Oh God, it was Jim.  
_

_“Jim…” Sebastian said a little breathlessly, “Jim, baby, where are you?”  
_

_“Outside the building, can you buzz me in?” Jim’s voice was shifting between cool and calm to painfully weak.  
_

_“I’ll come down and meet you.” Sebastian said and grabbed his keys.  
_

_“No! Please, just buzz me in.” Jim protested.  
_

_“O-okay.” He pressed the button next to the door and heard the door unlock through Jim’s end of the phone.  
_

_“I’ll be up in a minute. ‘Kay?” Jim’s voice was soft.  
_

_“Yeah, I’ll unlock the front door.” Sebastian replied and hung up. He opened the door just as Jim was pausing in front of it. They gazed at each other for a moment. Jim looked thinner than usual and he was covered in bruises. Sebastian pulled Jim into his arms and lifted him off the ground.  
_

_Jim gripped his shirt and whimpered. Sebastian kissed the top of his head and set him down again, wiping the single tear from his cheek with his thumb. Jim still had his hands twisted into Sebastian’s shirt and he looked up at him.  
_

_“Are you alright?” The blonde asked, caressing Jim’s injured cheek.  
_

_“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Besides, I got all the information I wanted.” Jim said.  
_

_“Where were you?”  
_

_“Government custody. The Ice Man wanted the code from me.” Jim said, dropping his hands from Sebastian’s shirt.  
_

_“The code? You have a code?”  
_

_“No, but he doesn’t know that.” Jim replied, with a small smirk then he gave Sebastian a once over. “You look like shit.”  
_

_“I’ve been worried sick about you.” Sebastian retorted, snaking an arm around Jim’s slim waist before pulling him into a hungry kiss. Jim’s lips were chapped and he flinched slightly before kissing back and threading his fingers through Sebastian’s greasy hair._

_“I went crazy without you.” Sebastian said, breathlessly when he pulled back.  
_

_“Missed you too, love.” Jim said, smiling a little, moving his hand over Sebastian cheek. He quickly grabbed Jim’s hand, kissing the palm again before looking the hand over.  
_

_“Jim?” Sebastian asked, voice a little weak. “Where’s you’re ring?”  
_

_Jim looked down and pulled his hand away, burying his face in his husband’s shirt. “They took it away from me. I couldn’t stop them.”  
_

_Sebastian stiffened before wrapping his arms around Jim’s frame. “It’s okay, babe, I’ll get you a new one.” ‘And then I’ll kidnap Mycroft Holmes’ lover and show him how it feels.’ Sebastian added to himself.  
_

_“You’ll have to forgive Mycroft.” Jim said, as though in reply to Sebastian’s thoughts. “He had nothing to do with it, doesn’t know it happened.” Jim looked up at Sebastian. “He has one of his own, you know? A detective at The Yard.”  
_

_Sebastian just hummed and picked Jim up bridal style, the smaller man flinched slightly. “You’re hurt. Get some rest.”  
_

_“You should too.” Jim replied, nuzzling Sebastian’s shoulder as he was taken into their bedroom.  
_

_“Of course, boss.”_

There was a picture, in Sebastian’s wallet, one of Jim when he hadn’t been looking. Sebastian was in one of his makeshift gun ranges in one of their many warehouse locations and Jim was pacing in the doorway wearing one of Sebastian’s jackets draped over his shoulders.

Sebastian had turned around and quickly snapped a photo of Jim with his phone. The criminal had crouched down against the door frame and had his elbows on his knees, hands folding and resting against his soft lips. Jim didn’t know Sebastian had taken the picture or kept it all this time. The corners were slightly folded and it was a little wrinkled. It was in black and white, Sebastian liked it that way, he had a copy in color but he liked the way the simple shades made look Jim look beautiful in a way he could never even describe to himself.

Fingering the photo, Sebastian sat down on the couch. The couch didn’t even feel right anymore. Too much worry went into the inactivity of a man who’d sat on that couch. The sniper puttered around the room, touching stains and burn marks, memories and reminders. He fingered the bullet hole in the wall. His thumb pad brushed over the marks Jim’s penknife left every time it was dropped into the coffee table. He tapped the panel of wall paper that hid new drywall from when the two had gotten into a fight. He rested his back against the other patch; it came about because of too much time take to get to the bedroom.

Sebastian wandered into their bedroom. He smoothed the sheets to feel the dent left in the mattress by Jim’s small lithe body. He felt the burns on the curtains when a surprise kiss caused him to miss the ashtray. He savored the slow creak the bed made when he sat down it, the same sound it made when a tired Jim crawled into bed late. He retrieved his gun from under the pillow: his military-issued handgun from his years in the service. Even though he was discharged for less than angelic reasons, he’d managed to keep this hand gun.

Sebastian Moran missed Jim Moriarty. Each day dragged on and on. They were all filled with too much to drink, too many cigarettes, too many memories and too little of the man that filled them. The gun felt cold and familiar in his hands. Methodically, he dismantled it, retrieving the care kit from the bedside table. He oiled each piece lovingly and reassembled it with the utmost care. It needed to be clean. It had to be in top condition. It had its final mission now and a single chance.

Sebastian Moran had one last target.


End file.
